


Between the bars

by Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Music, POV Sirius Black, Pining Sirius Black, Sirius fucks up, The Fifth Year Incident With Snape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-08 00:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16419338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe/pseuds/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe
Summary: Sirius, serial self-saboteur, really really fucks up this time.





	Between the bars

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #:** 16  
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
>  **Notes:** So many props to Qualinestron

When Sirius woke up, it was the 108th day that Moony - that _Remus_ \- was not talking to him. 93 days since he had woken up to find that Remus was not in his bed. Four and a quarter hours since using an alarm charm just to watch Remus sleeping beneath the patchy blanket, scarred arms escaping and a riot of dark blond curls spread on the pillow case. The tension, the ever present tension was cut by the scissors of sleep. Erasing the line between his brows, the tightness of his mouth, and striping him with seam marks.

But when Sirius woke up again, Remus was gone.

*

Prongs had forgiven him. In the way that boys did inexplicable things like elbowing someone in the nose and becoming best mates while waiting outside the Headmaster’s office. In the way that was prefaced with _Well, you know Sirius_ … 

Pete’s twitchiness had smoothed to a disapproving coat he wore when Remus was around. Which was not often, really. He’d filled his time with study groups and tutoring and prefecting with Evans. Everything but _being around Sirius_. Sirius was terrified that he’d started dating her. 

He was terrified because he knew she was ferocious and loyal and made Remus laugh. The way Sirius used to. 

Prongs had forgiven him. But then he had stolen Remus in the mornings.

*

Sirius discovered that they ran in the morning. James as quintessential James Potter: laughing and fast. Moony a huffing trailer, slow and steady. Quintessentially Remus Lupin. Someone always lagged back with him. Often one of the Hufflepuffs.

More often than he liked, Regulus.

Sirius was not much pleased. 

Most particularly the morning Reg grabbed Remus around the waist and ran with him in hand. Remus yelled while he was passed bodily to the front until he ended up over Prongs’ shoulder, right hand on his arse. 

Looking at Regulus was like staring at himself. Except the version Remus wanted to be around.

He watched them from the Astronomy Tower with a cup of tea filched from the Elves, sitting between the crenelations. He told himself he had no idea why he was doing this. Waking up early to cry out his frustration in the shower and then watch. 

But he was a liar.

*

Outside of the Marauders — and Evans — Sirius’ _prank_ was amusing and sometimes came out in easy banter in the common room. 

It was _the time Black got one over on the Slytherins_. Not t _he time Sirius almost got Snape killed on a lark_. Or _the time Remus very nearly got put down by the Ministry_. 

_Well, you know Sirius_ , James would say and quickly change the subject.

Remus would disappear. If he was there at all. 

*

At 170 days, he started to _get it_. 27 days to the start of Term with Prongs in a vest and pants sitting across from him at breakfast. Late, because it was summer hols. “Remus is coming out with us today.”

In his surprise, Sirius sloshed orange juice on his pyjamas — which was a kindness to the boxers and faded shirt. “Why?”

“Because I want to see him.” It wasn’t like James to talk in riddles. But he did do a lot of talking with his eyes. “Because he’s my — _our_ — friend.”

“Does he know I’ll be there?” 

“Do you think I would just spring that on Moony?” James never got the subtext to things. He believed everything at face value. He would have never survived Grimmauld like that. “It’s not going to be easy. But I think… I think it’s not impossible.”

*

They met at the Shore. As six and seventh years apparated with Ogden’s and boxes of Muggle beer. Remus appeared somewhere off in the distance, on the crumbling Georgian sea wall, looking like a character out of a Bronte novel with a folded blanket. 

But maybe _Sirius_ was the character out of a Bronte novel. 

Prongs came alongside in his basketball shorts, barefoot, laughing, and dodging the driftwood Pete threw at him. “I’m just chuffed he came,” he said to Sirius, working at a splinter on his palm. Like Sirius was the last person in the world that knew what was going on. “I don’t think I could handle another term like last. It wasn’t easy, but he’d do anything for Reg.”

On the wall, another figure appeared beside Remus, who caught him up by the biceps while the sea lashed at long brown legs. Sirius squinted against the blowing sand at them. Remus didn’t release Reg after they’d scrambled up, standing close enough that it was hard to tell there were two of them on the rocks. 

In the distance, Reg had brought his hands to the sides of Remus’ face and they were kissing. Remus’ arms wrapped around Reg’s torso, blanket forgotten as it blew off the rocks and into the Atlantic. 

*

_When Siri walked into the practice room, he found Remus laying on the piano bench. Legs and arms dripping over the sides, tie undone. He turned as Siri entered, eyes half-mast and smiling. “Hey.”_

_“I missed you at lunch,” Siri used his back to close the door behind him. He wondered if it was okay to_ say _he missed Remus, and snapped his jaw shut on any further admissions. This_ crush _made being around him so painfully awkward. At least the practice room was soundproof and no one would hear him._

_Remus mashed his palms into his eyes and groaned. Sirius just watched him - as he always did - the knife of his adam’s apple, the straight nose, the halo of frizzy curls. He averted his eyes as soon as Remus peeled his hands away, turning back to Sirius._

_“I’ve been working on something. Listen?” As if Sirius would have done anything else._

_“Of course.” He dropped his book bag at the door and crossed the room towards a folding chair in the corner._

_Remus caught him as he passed, a warm, calloused hand on his wrist. “Here.” They were both lean hipped enough to leave a sliver of space between on the bench. “Just keep your elbows tucked.” He laughed as his hands moved over the keys, as if weaving a spell. And then he drummed out two notes, measured and almost sad._

_He smelled like Remus. Slightly stale from sweat and the tarry scent of his shampoo._

“Drink up baby, stay up all night. Things you could do—” _a long, sighing pause_ , “You won’t but you might _._ ” _The two notes blossomed to a scatter of keys, the barest of embellishments to his voice. Sirius wondered if it was something Remus had written, the way his mouth moved around the words, the tendons in his forearms tensing and releasing._

_His eyes were closed, his torso leaning towards the cheap school piano._

“Drink up one more time _._ ” _Again the pause, this time Sirius’ stomach twisted just a bit. Because he thought — no, he_ hoped — _that Remus was talking to_ him. _That he was seeing him — the_ inside _him — though his eyes were still closed. He had to remember to breath_. “And I’ll make you mine.” 

_Finally he finished, drawing out the last, letting the piano quiet again until it was just the two notes. Answering each other, though separate._

_They sat there in silence, the soundproofing eating the music as soon as Remus had played it. Sirius had tensed, drawn tight like a bowstring. Remus was almost… waiting. That’s what it felt like. A strange tension in the room that Siri had never felt before. So, he threw words into it. “Did you write that?”_

_The tension snapped and Remus’ shoulders relaxed, his hands fisted on his thighs. His laugh was tight. “I wish. It’s an Eliott Smith song. I like it.” And then almost defensively, “The song.”_

_“I do, too.” Sirius was happy to sound normal despite his heart about to burst out of his chest._

_“I didn’t realize the time.” Remus had not looked up at the clock. “I should probably get going.” He stood up quickly, sliding out from between the bench and piano._

_“I’ll catch you around?”_

_Remus smiled, forcing sheet music into his bag. “Of course. I would do anything for you, Pads.”_


End file.
